Code: Veronica
by Verdreht
Summary: Everyone thought that Steve met his end at the hands of the Veronica virus. But what if that end...was really just a beginning. Now Krauser and Leon have a new mission, and it begs the question...what will they find? Or really...who? SLASH StevexLeon
1. Chapter 1

Leon pressed himself against the wall, listening to the sounds of quiet moans and shuffling in the hall just around the corner.

"Remind me again what they said this mission would be," Krauser hissed from beside him, his gun held against his chest. Leon found it entertaining too. A "simple recon mission" they had said, right before they sent him and Jack Krauser off gallivanting to middle of nowhere, Canada. They were ordered to find out all that they could about this "Organization" facility.

They weren't expecting for there to be a full blown zombie attack once they got there.

Instead of a reply, Leon lifted his finger to his lips, and motioned around the corner. Krauser nodded, and in an instant, Leon spun around the corner, gun at the ready. Krauser was right beside him, and between the two of them, they took out the group of undead that shambled towards them. A single shot to the head for each of them.

By then, they were both old hats with the whole T-Virus thing, but that didn't mean it wasn't freaky. Seeing people eating other people – trying to eat _you_ – wasn't something that went over well in Leon's head.

"Do you even know where we're going?" Krauser demanded, firing another round off into the skull of an incoming worker. Leon followed suit, sliding another clip into his gun and going to work.

"There have to be archives around here somewhere."

Krauser snorted. "So "around here somewhere" is our general heading then?" He didn't sound impressed.

"If you've got any better ideas," Leon growled, "I'm all ears. The outbreak only makes it all the more important that we get that information, and I'm not leaving until we get to the bottom of all of this."

The only response he got from the other man was a noncommittal grunt as they continued down the corridor, sirens bathing them in obnoxious sounds as the place flashed red. It was eerie, to say the least, but at least it wasn't quiet. It was always worse when it was quiet.

That said, it was more than a little unnerving how close the virus victims were able to get before they could hear them thanks to those very same sirens.

That was the only conversation that passed between the two of them for some times as they headed down a set of metal stairs. Leon wasn't exactly sure where he was going, sure, but in his experience, it seemed as though all of the important things were always in the basements of buildings. Thus, he was going down.

The stairs took them to a door, and he pressed himself against the wall beside it, as Krauser pointed his gun at it. With a nod, he flung it open and before he could even peer down the hallway, Krauser's gun erupted in a spray of bullets. On instinct alone, he threw himself away from the door just in time for a zombie to lurch, jaws snapping, at where his ankle was before.

He joined Krauser in firing as body after body piled from the door, all dressed in bloodstained, filthy lab coats.

Once the things stopped coming, Leon allowed himself a small grin. "Looks like we're getting closer."

Still, the mood quickly sobered as another round of zombies flowed into the hallway.

"Christ, how many of them are there?" Krauser shouted, blasting a third eye into one and kicking another that got too close.

Leon kept his gun trained on the heads of the progressing undead. "There can't be too many more of them!" They kept walking as they shot, working their way through the slow-moving mobs until they reached another door. There was a keypad on it, and a heavy bolt system that, judging by a push of the handle, was triggered and locked.

Leon probably could have broken the code – he was good with things like that – but he was impatient, and he didn't exactly like being surrounded by the undead. So, with little spectacle, he fired off a round into it. It did the trick, and again they went through the door. Immediately, the sound of screams – undeniably human, but strange sounding all the same – pervaded their ears.

He couldn't hear any groans of the undead, and he knew that the scream belonged to someone that wasn't changed, so Leon ran in, despite Krauser's warning.

Only, when he got in the room, he realized that there was no one there. The entire room was filled with monitors, and had a huge pane of glass that showed dark. That was when Leon saw that the reason the voice had sounded strange. It was coming through speakers.

His eyes were drawn to movement as, in the centermost monitor, a video played. An old, gravelly voice played over the background noise, like a narration.

_Commencing test on subject V-494, a.k.a. Steven Burnside. Test to gauge Veronica Virus interface with central nervous system._

Leon, and now Krauser, watched as a doctor strode forth to a figure strapped to a table, the camera panning in closer. At that magnification, Leon could make out the figure's features. He was a man – no, a teenager, with orange-red hair and blue eyes that were almost green. His face was boyish, and well proportioned, and shining with defiance as he glared at the doctor.

Without warning, the doctor pulled a tool that looked strangely like a cattle prod from a table and pressed it against the boy's bare side. His whole body seized up, but he didn't let out a cry. The doctor withdrew the tool, adjusted something, and pressed it back against him, lining up the points with the burns it had left the last time.

This time, the electricity raged with such fury that the boy's body arched off the table, though the restraints held him down. Still, he didn't cry, but when he opened his eyes again, something was…different.

The doctor adjusted his tool again, as if he didn't notice. Again the prod was pressed against his skin, and this time, he did cry out. This time, as he screamed, the sound began to morph and deepen as deep blue veins bulged from his skin and his body thrashed and tossed against the restraints.

He was changing, Leon realized with horror. The Veronica virus he'd heard about…it was in this kid. But even as the electricity sparked against his skin, the bulging veins were as far as the transformation went.

_Subject is showing high tolerance to the transformative effects of the Veronica Virus. Suggests integration into natural functions._

At that, the video went black, only to kick back on. It was the same kid, only this time, instead of being strung up against the table, he was free in the room. And he wasn't alone. A staggering figure – a T-Virus infected, he realized – lunged for him. The teen fought back as it cornered him, punching and kicking, but bare-handed and, it seemed, drugged, he wasn't able to hold him off. He let out a cry as the thing sunk its teeth into his skin.

"What the hell is this?" Krauser muttered. They watched as the creature was dragged out and the boy was left alone clutching at the bleeding wound on his shoulder. Time lapsed in the video, showing the boy pacing back and forth, curled up in the corner, and rocking himself, but nothing happened. The boy didn't change.

Then the voice returned over the video.

_Subject V-494 has fully amalgamated with the Veronica Virus. It is the perfect specimen – possessing enhanced strength and speed, with no contagions or mutations. Extreme changes in mood are negligible, possibly attributed to containment. _

_ Project Veronica is a success._

And with that, the video winked out. Leon blinked at the screen for a few moments, just staring. The perfect specimen, the thing had said. No contagions or mutations, even though he had been infected with the Veronica virus, and the T-Virus.

The Veronica Virus…he remembered hearing about it from Claire. And the name…it sounded so familiar. Steven, it had said. Steve Burnside…Steve Burnside…

And just like that, it hit him. This was the kid that had been with her at Rockfort Prison. He was alive?

"We have to find him," he said resolutely. The pain he'd seen in that kid's eyes…it had been human. More human than any of the people that filled this place, even before the virus had been unleashed.

"He probably got taken out in all this mess," Krauser said, taking the disk from the player, and all the ones stacked near it, and shoving them in the pocket of his vest. Just as he finished though, another scream sounded. It was muffled, but it definitely sounded like the one that had been in the videos.

Leon wasted no time, tearing out of the room and down the halls in the direction of the scream. Every infected in his way took a bullet to the head without so much as slowing him down, and Krauser trailed behind him taking out any of the stragglers.

"Hold on!" Leon shouted as he ran through an open door. He was instantly hit by an array of bright, bright lights, and a frantic cry. They weren't words so much as indistinctive sounds, and Leon searched for the source.

He found it in the form of an undead huddled over a figure. Leon wasted no time in dispatching it, and ran forward as the infected was kicked to the side.

Against the wall was none other than Steve Burnside, eyes wide with panic and chest heaving frantically. Blood was spattered on his form, probably belonging to the several other undead lying broken and destroyed around the room. He'd taken them out with nothing but a baton which now lay on the ground beside him as he curled in on himself, gripping his leg. Blood dripped between his fingers.

"Steve Burnside?" Leon asked, kneeling in front of him.

"Leon, get away from him, he's been bitten," Krauser commanded. His gun was pointed straight at Steve's head, and his finger was on the trigger.

Steve didn't even seem to notice, his eyes rising to meet Leon's, his face pale, almost green. "W-who're you?" he choked out, his voice strained and reedy.

"Leon S. Kennedy. That's Krauser back there," he said, gesturing back to him.

Steve followed the gesture back to Krauser and saw the gun pointed at him. Instead of reacting in terror, like most do when staring down the barrel of a gun, he laughed. It was a hysterical sound that really sounded more like a whimper than anything, and he dropped his head onto his knee, still gripping his leg.

"Please shoot me," he said, visibly shaking. "I'm infected, please just shoot me."

"Are you turning?" Leon asked.

Steve didn't reply for a few moments, but finally, he shook his head. "Please," he begged.

Leon frowned. "We're not going to shoot you."

"We aren't?" Krauser asked disbelievingly.

"No, we aren't. We're going to help you." He turned to Krauser. "Watch the door, okay?" Krauser looked like he had something he wanted to say to that, but he didn't, turning his gun to the door. He did, under his breath, utter something along the lines of "your funeral."

"Let me see your leg," he said, shrugging out of his vest. Steve just shook his head. "Move your hands, Steve, I need to take a look at it." Again, his head shook, but after a moment, he finally loosened his grip enough for Leon to move his hands to his sides.

He pulled his knife from his shoulder holster, and as gently as he could, ran it up the side of the scrub-like pants that made up the only clothing Steve wore. He cut the leg of them all the way up to the knee, and cut them off. He realized then though that the wound was on the underside of his shin. He couldn't see it like that.

"Steve, I'm gonna need you to lay down on your stomach." Steve shook his head a little more fervently this time, and when Leon reached out to touch his shoulder, he jerked away.

"Please no," he whimpered, hiding his head in his arms. Tremors ran through his whole body and he tried to grab his leg again, but Leon took hold of his wrists.

"Shut the door, Krauser, and barricade it," he commanded. It didn't take a genius to figure out that someone would need to hold the kid down. He was terrified – he had every right to be – and he didn't want anyone going near his injury. Actually, he didn't seem to want anyone going near him period.

Krauser did as he was asked and grabbed the baton from beside Steve, going back over to the door to jam it through the handles of the door. It wouldn't give out easily enough for them to worry about it, so with that, he turned back to Leon, crouching beside him.

"Steve, Krauser here is going to help me get you away from that wall, okay? We're not going to hurt you."

Steve stared at Leon pleadingly, his shoulders dipping with silent whines. "I just want to go…"

Leon winced. The pure desperation in his voice was bad enough, but the pain that strained his face and tone made it even worse.

"You can't walk kid, and if we don't get you patched up, you're going to bleed to death, so calm down," Krauser grumbled. Leon shot him a dirty look, and Krauser shrugged before grabbing hold of Steve's shoulders.

Steve screamed, and with strength Leon didn't expect his lithe form to possess, he flung the hands away from him and threw himself away from both of the men, into the corner. His injured leg dragged behind him as he stumbled for the door.

Before he could move the baton that held it closed, Leon grabbed him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pinning his hands to his sides. "Easy, easy, it's okay," Leon said, pulling him kicking and screaming away from the door. As gently as he could, he wrestled him to the floor. He did his best to ignore the veins of blue creeping up the teen's neck as he cried.


	2. Chapter 2

Krauser held Steve to the floor as Leon worked. "Krauser, keep him still!" Leon shouted, pulling out all the bandages he had from his pockets. Blood was oozing out faster now, pooling beneath his leg as he squirmed and thrashed.

"I'm trying!" Krauser retorted, holding Steve tightly to the floor with his hands behind his back.

Steve thrashed all the harder, teeth bared as he struggled against his captors. "Let me go!" he screamed.

Leon did his best to ignore him, resting his knee lightly on the foot of Steve's injured leg. "Alright Steve, this is gonna hurt. I need you to try to relax." The last thing they needed was for him to go into shock.

"Don't touch it!" the teen pleaded as Leon positioned the bandage just above the wound. Exposed tendons and muscles writhed under the torn skin, and in parts where it was missing entirely, Leon could see the white of bone. It was a disgusting looking injury, and Leon got the heart wrenching suspicion that if they did get out of there alive, he would end up having it amputated.

Deciding to focus on just getting out alive to begin with, Leon took a deep breath, and pressed the bandages to the torn flesh.

A bloodcurdling scream ripped from Steve's throat and the familiar blue veins began to spread even down his leg.

"Leon…" Krauser warned.

Leon wasn't paying attention to him, but to the teenager he was trying to help. Using the bloody strips of fabric from the portion of pants he'd cut, he tied the bandages in place tightly.

Once everything was secured, he sat back on his heels. "Krauser, you can let him up," he said, and the bulky man did so. The moment he was free, Steve curled in on himself, his hands going for his leg. Luckily, Leon was faster, and grabbed his hands gently but firmly.

"C'mon, can you walk?" he asked, resting a hand on his shoulders. Steve didn't reply for a long time, his face ghastly pale under the blue lines as quiet whimpers voiced from his throat. Concerned, Leon pushed him onto his back and pulled one of his eyelids open, only to have his hand batted away.

"Need a second," Steve muttered through clenched teeth. He looked like he was about to be sick – then again, he probably was. At least, though, he wasn't going into shock.

The russet-haired teen took several deep breaths through his nose, hands moving in spasms at his sides until finally the veins all receded. Taking this as a sign that all was well, Leon used a hand between his shoulder blades to sit him up.

"You're tough, kid, I'll give you that," Krauser said approvingly as Steve opened his eyes. No one said anything about the moisture that gathered in them.

Steve didn't raise his eyes, and instead gave a light shiver. Color hadn't returned to his face, and, Leon noticed, his pupils were dilated. Maybe he was going into shock after all.

Frowning, Leon propped up his knee behind Steve's back, fully aware that he couldn't hold himself up. Blood loss, and possibly shock, along with the disgusting number of injuries that littered even just his naked torso had sapped his strength to the point that he barely kept his eyes open.

Leon shrugged out of his leather jacket, leaving him in his long-sleeved, grey 5.11 shirt. He pulled the sleeves onto Steve's arms, trying his best to avoid dragging the fabric across the more painful-looking injuries. Steve looked confused for a moment, eyes wide as he turned to see what Leon was doing.

"You need to stay warm," Leon explained, reaching around his torso to zip the jacket up. Steve nodded, and it didn't escape Leon's notice how he pulled the jacket closer to him.

"Shoes," Steve mumbled, pointing to a pair of boots in the corner. He'd clearly taken them off of one of the dead soldiers, but he hadn't put them on. Krauser followed his gesture and grabbed the boots, tossing them to Leon, who gave them to Steve.

He managed to get one of them on, but he couldn't bend his left leg enough to get the other one on. Sighing, Leon pushed the shoe on as carefully as he could. A strained whine broke from his throat, but he didn't make any other indications of pain as Leon laced the boot up for him, and returned to his side. Now, at least, there was some color on the kid's face, he noticed with some amusement. His cheeks were red.

Sliding one of the teen's arms over his shoulder, he waved to Krauser. "Give me a hand." Krauser nodded and took Steve's other side, pulling his arm over his bulkier shoulders as Leon wrapped an arm around his waist.

The moment they tried to move him though, he let out a ragged gasp and his good leg gave out from under him. Concernedly, Leon used his free hand to lift up the jacket. The sight it revealed was gruesome. Not as much so as the wound on Steve's leg, but it was still pretty bad. His ribs on his left side were concave – literally concave, with a nasty bruise stretched from under the pulled up jacket to beneath the scrubs that hung on his bony hips.

"Jesus Christ," Leon muttered as he lowered the jacket.

Steve shuddered. "T-virus isn't the worst thing here…" he muttered, pulling his arm away from Krauser to hug his abdomen. Krauser took that as his cue to take up post at the door, gun out and at the ready.

Leon didn't like the sound of that. The only things he could think of worse than the T-virus were the more severe mutations. The G-virus or the Veronica virus.

"Let's get out of here," Leon said, nodding to Krauser who flung the door open. Already, there was a line-up of infected outside the door, several of whom flopped into the room. Leon noticed how Steve leaned back away from them. He would've taken another step back, but Leon held him still so that he couldn't step back on his injured leg.

Krauser dispatched the infected with masterful speed, clearing the doorway and starting out into the hall. Leon started into motion, tightening his grip on Steve's waist. "Don't put weight on your leg," he said. "Lean on me."

Steve nodded and the two started walking. They didn't even get out the door before Steve was breathing hard, but he didn't complain and he didn't slow down. Krauser was right; the kid was tough.

They continued down the hall, Krauser taking out any and all infected that crossed their path. In fact, they were making nearly as good time as they had been without Steve. Things were actually going pretty well, and they were going through the door that led them into the lab. To Leon's relief, the videos weren't playing.

The door had to be held open to keep it from closing, so that made getting through it rather precarious. Krauser held it for them, but in the one instant that Krauser was preoccupied, an infected jumped into action, jaws snapping for Leon's leg. Both his and Krauser's hands were busy, yet somehow, at that moment, a loud bang rang out from right beside him, and the infected collapsed.

Leon turned to see Steve holding his Glock 30, pointed directly at the infected's head. His aim had been perfect, and brain matter lay scattered on the wall behind the creature. His grip on the gun was so tight his knuckles were white, but despite that, he looked completely sure of his skill with the weapon.

Hesitantly, he offered it back to Leon, but he shook his head. "Keep it," he said. He had plenty of guns strapped on his person, and Steve had proven that, injured or not, he was a good shot. Vaguely, he remembered Claire telling him in her e-mail from Rockfort about the kid with the Lugers. Maybe she hadn't been kidding when she said he was a better shot than she was.

For the first time since he'd seen him, a small smile pulled at the corners of Steve's lips. If he'd known giving him a gun would comfort him, he'd have done it a long time ago. Nevertheless,

"Don't fire unless you have to," Leon said.

"Won' waste ammo," Steve protested, eyes flashing.

Leon couldn't help the smile at the display of spirit. At least there was still a fire there, no matter how weak and frail he looked. "I don't doubt that," he said. "But you don't need to be moving that arm too much. Your wrist looks broken."

A genuine look of surprise passed across Steve's features, and he looked down his arm to see the purple discoloration stretching up his arms. "Gross," he muttered, tucking the gun into the pocket of the jacket.

Krauser coughed. "You two comin' or what?"

Leon nodded, giving Steve a moment to steel himself before they started moving again. The ease on Steve's face was quickly replaced by tense pain, and his breath fell back to heavy pants. Still, he didn't complain as they progressed through the complex.

It was when they got to the stairs that things got interesting. They were steep stairs – they couldn't be cleared by the shuffling hops Steve was able to make. For a moment, Leon considered the various possibilities. He could get Krauser to help lift him up stair by stair, but that would leave them uncovered, and it would hurt a lot. He could do fireman's carry, but his ribs would probably puncture a lung. That left option C.

As carefully as he could, Leon sat Steve down on the concrete floor of the building. "Wh-what are you doing?" he asked, eyes wide with alarm. Surely they weren't going to leave him!

But Leon didn't stand up. Instead, he knelt down next to him, crouching over. "This might hurt a bit," he warned, sliding one arm under Steve's knees and the other behind his shoulders. With a quiet grunt, Leon lifted him up bridal style.

The first thing Leon noticed was that Steve was abnormally light. The next thing he noticed was the pair of fists clenched in his shirt. _If_ there could possibly be a reason he was glad he was in pain, it was because it made him clench his eyes so that he couldn't see Leon's blush. That didn't do much to make it any better though – Leon already despised the thought of causing the younger man pain.

That said, he couldn't help the slight jarring Steve got with every ascending step. "You okay?" he asked finally when Steve didn't relinquish his hold on the fabric of his shirt. His whole body was tense in Leon's arms, and moisture beaded on his auburn eyelashes.

Leon saw his Adam's Apple bob with a thick swallow, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead gave a nod. He was hurting badly then, Leon decided. "Am I hurting you?" He shook his head.

"Morphine," he whispered, his voice wavering. He released the grip on Leon's shirt with his left hand and rolled it over to show the inside of his elbow. A small trickle of blood smeared his arm from tiny pinpricks in the crook of it.

Leon gaped. "You shot yourself up with _morphine_?" he demanded incredulously. Even Krauser turned around at that, his eyes falling on Steve's elbow too.

"Couldn't afford to slow down," Steve explained, a grimace twisting his face even through the sardonic smirk. "I burn through it fast though. Third dose's gone."

That would explain how he was able to function with a chunk missing out of his leg.

A groan down the hallway made it clear that he didn't have time to worry about that then, and he and Krauser kept moving. When they made it through the door at the top of the stairs, Leon sat Steve down against the wall, and joined Krauser in securing the area. More shots rang out as he and Krauser cleared out the infected that filled the room. When they were done, he returned to help Steve up…

And saw him huddled against the wall with his elbow stretched out in his lap and a syringe held in his shaking hand. He rushed forward before the tip could touch his flesh and grabbed both the hand holding the needle, and the elbow waiting to be stuck with it.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanding, releasing the elbow to force Steve's head up. Instead of the normal sea green eyes, he was met with fiery red as blue veins crept up his skin.

"The fuck do you think?" Steve hissed in response, his voice high and reedy, almost hysterical. "I can't even breathe like this, much less move." And Leon believed him. It wasn't just the heaving of his battered chest, or the shaking of his hands, but the sheer desperation in his inhuman eyes. He was still human, and he was in pain.

"Krauser, watch the doors," he said, taking the needle from Steve's hand. Steve shrunk down a little bit, clearly thinking that Leon was going to destroy the syringe in his hands. Instead though, he reached into his vest and pulled out his med kit. In it was a tube of rubber, which he wrapped around Steve's upper arm. "You're going to get one hell of a detox when we get out of this," Leon told him as he opened and closed Steve's fist for him.

Steve stared at Leon with a mixture between gratitude and defiance. "I'll deal with it then," he said, closing his eyes as Leon put the needle against his skin. A whimper escaped his throat without his permission as the needle pierced his skin and the liquid was released into his system. His eyes didn't open and his body didn't relax until the needle was out of his skin and the rubber tube was tucked back into the med kit.

When his eyes opened again, they were back to their normal blue-green, and looking much more lucid if not infinitely more relaxed. He didn't even wait for Leon's help to start pushing himself up, but Leon put a hand on his shoulder and kept him down.

"How many more do you have?" he asked.

Steve smiled sheepishly. "Three."

Leon held out his hand to Steve, palm up. "Give them to me."

"But—."

"That wasn't a request."

Begrudgingly, Steve reached into his pocket with his good hand and pulled out three capped syringes. With a small frown, he dropped them in Leon's hand.

Leon put the syringes in the med kit and returned the kit to the pocket in his vest. "Alright, time to go." It took a lot less time to get up and going this time, probably because Steve was contributing a lot more effort to it than he had been before. Part of Leon hated himself for giving in to drug abuse, but the other part, the winning part, was just relieved the kid wasn't in such unbearable pain anymore.

"After you," Steve chuckled, gesturing dramatically with the Glock he'd produced from his pocket. _Mental note: drugs plus Steve equals insufferable._


	3. Chapter 3

While Leon would have been perfectly content never seeing the faces of his team again, he figured that he had to go and talk strategy with them sometime.

Of course, that was made slightly more difficult by the fact that Alec seemed to be petrified of going downstairs.

"Dead on ground," he protested, moving even further away from the stairs. "Not high. High safe, ground not. Stay high!"

Okay, he had a point. From what he'd seen in Raccoon City, the undead couldn't climb. They had trouble enough walking. This way they only had one entrance to watch.

He didn't want to shout to the downstairs, and he certainly didn't want to leave Alec alone with a perfectly escapable window, so he pulled out his radio instead. "Brookes, all of you get your asses up here."

"Where do you get off talking to me like that?" Brookes demanded as he hit the top step.

"I don't have time to deal with your fragile ego, Brookes. Have you secured the first level?" Leon said.

"All the doors and windows are locked and blocked, sir," Myers informed him. "We pushed chests and tables in front of them."

Leon nodded. "Alright then, bunker down. We're going to wait here the night."

Franklin blanched. "Are we really staying here the night?" he exclaimed, his voice an octave higher than any male's had the right to be.

"If you want to go out there with those things at night, be my guest."

"But after the night, we're leaving, right?" Franklin's eyes were hopeful.

"We were given a mission," Leon replied. He figured that answered everything, so he set about fishing some food from his pack. Apparently though, the answer wasn't quite so satisfactory.

"You think that this mission is as important as our lives?" Kimberly asked.

"Forget it," Brookes interrupted. "First thing tomorrow, we're getting out of here. Who's with me?" he asked.

"And just how do you plan to get out of here without the main gate open?" Leon asked.

Brookes smirked. "Same way we got in."

Leon scoffed. "And you honestly think that by this point there's any chance in hell we're going to be able to get all the way there, and through the sewer without running into these things?"

Suddenly, Alec spoke up. "Not. All outside. Everywhere," he said quietly. "Guards at gate, dead on ground," he muttered. "You become dead on ground."

Brookes growled, and without any warning, grabbed Alec by the front of his sweater, slamming him against the wall. "And who the hell are you? What makes you think you know so much about any of this?" he shouted.

Leon's instincts reacted quicker than he could even think of a command to give his body, and he grabbed Brooke's by the back of his vest, throwing him across the room. The moment the hand released his sweater, Alec pushed himself back into the corner of the room, far away from Brookes. His eyes were impossibly wide as he watched the soldier who had just attacked him. His hand clutched at his sweater where Brookes had grabbed him, and his chest heaved.

Leon already had Brookes pinned against the wall, similar to the way Brookes had put Alec only moments before. "If it wasn't for him, you'd be dead, so I suggest you take that attitude of yours and shove it up your ass, or I'll do it for you." He gave Brookes a harsh shove, and let him go. "If you want to leave, then fine. It's your ass that'll be eaten alive. Now in case you didn't see it on the helicopter ride in, there's a helipad on the target building. If we get there, then we can get picked up, and we can get the hell out of here. It's our best chance."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, daring a glance out the window. There were no signs of any undead, save for smatterings of blood and abandoned tools. "I'll take first watch. Everyone else get some food, and then sleep," he commanded.

Surprisingly, he wasn't met with any arguments, and the entire team got started on their meals. They were all on one side of the room, and on the other…Alec sat curled up in the corner.

Leon sighed again, and went over to the corner. The moment he knelt down in front of Alec, the other flinched, and tried to get up. He was shaking though, and his hand still clutched at his neck.

"Stay still," Leon said, and reached for his olive-toned hand. He pulled it away from his neck, and carefully reached for his collar. Alec watched him warily as he pulled the collar of the sweater down, and frowned.

A large, angry bruise spread across even just the exposed skin. It wasn't fresh, but it was recent, and it looked painful.

He got up, and went over to grab his pack, before returning. He didn't get too close to the other as he went through his bag, grabbing a couple of things. One was a small pack, which he smacked against his knee. Instantly, it went cold, and he handed it to Alec. Alec let out a shout of surprise when he touched it, and nearly dropped it, so Leon grabbed his hand with the ice pack in it, and put it to his neck where the bruise was.

"Hold it there. It'll help," he told him, ripping open another package. This one contained a meal bar, which he held out to the teen. "Food. Eat it," he said, putting it in his free hand and getting one for himself.

Alec's eyes went between Leon and the food in his hands. He watched as Leon started on his own dinner. By then, the SRT team was already done, and working on setting up their sleeping packs.

Slowly, Alec took a bite of the bar, and then another, and another, until the last crumb of it was gone. The SRT team was in bed already, and probably close to sleeping. Leon had gotten out his sleeping pack as well, and had grabbed some clean looking/smelling blankets from the closet. He set out his sleep pack, laying it along the wall. He sat on one side of it, leaning against the wall and pulling out his gun.

Immediately, he saw a change in Alec. The youth dropped the wrapper of his food, his eyes growing wide and fearful.

"I'm just cleaning it," Leon assured him. "Now get some sleep. We're heading out bright and early in the morning."

Alec watched him for a few more moments before settling down on the palette of blankets Leon had lain out for him.

Leon's watch had been going for about an hour. Everything was quiet. He was getting stiff though, so he got up, sliding his gun back into its holster.

Through the silence, Leon heard a strange sound that he couldn't quite place. Then it hit him – it was the sound breath made when passed through chattering teeth, and he knew exactly where it was coming from.

Sure enough, Alec's slender form was curled in around itself under the entire palette. He was sleeping on the hard floor, clutching the blankets around himself as he shook.

A sudden and inexplicable wave of empathy struck him, and he felt the urge to pull the smaller man to him. He shook that off quickly, but still couldn't rid himself of the need to try to make him more comfortable.

As quietly as he could, he knelt down next to the shivering bundle, and lightly put a hand on his shoulder. The other work with a start, sitting up quickly, and staring at Leon with sleep-fogged green eyes that shone even in the minimal light.

"Come on," he said, holding out his hand as he stood. Alec looked at him questioningly, but oddly (considering his obvious caution when dealing with other people), he took his hand and allowed himself to be helped up. "Grab your blankets." Alec nodded and did as he was told, grabbing up his blankets, and following Leon over to his pallet. He sat down back where he was, and gestured to the rest of his sleeping pack. Alec took the hint, and settled down. Already, his eyes were starting to slide closed, and he all but collapsed into a little pile on the mat.

Alec stayed on his side of the pack from Leon for a bit, but after a little while of shivering, Leon reached over and pulled the other to him. He knew body heat would do much better at keeping the freezing youth warm.

Alec stiffened for a second, in surprise, but then relaxed into the older man, leaning his head on Leon's shoulder and squirming until he was flush against Leon's side. It wasn't long after that that the sounds of soft, steady breathing filled the air. He was finally asleep.

Things were peaceful for a while. Leon's arm was falling asleep though, from having it propped up on the younger man's slim shoulders. As gently as he could manage, he slid his arm out from around Alec's shoulders and wound it around his torso, hand resting loosely against his flat belly. His hand was only there for a moment though, before he felt something…strange.

A warm wetness coated his fingers, and he quickly pulled his hand back, cursing and turning on his flashlight. He wouldn't have thought it possible, but he was actually more unsettled that it _wasn't_ what he'd thought it was.

Crimson liquid shone on his hand in the light, and his eyes widened. "Son of a bitch," he swore, moving away from the wall to sit in front of Alec.

The jostling had woken the mysterious young man, and he stared at Leon with eyes full of confusion and anxiety. Somehow, Leon doubted that his shaking now was just because he was cold.

"What? Why stare?" he asked, his soft voice catching in his throat. Leon ticked it off as proof the other was nervous. Scared, even.

Leon frowned. "Alec, I need you to take off your shirt," he said. Quickly, though, he realized that _wasn't_ the right thing to say. Cautious, but still sleepy eyes widened in alarm, and he sat up the rest of the way, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around himself. He felt his own adrenaline rise in response, and quickly tried to amend himself. "You're hurt, and I need to get a look."

He pointed to Alec's bleeding stomach, and Alec followed the gesture. Leon saw his shoulders tense even further and he looked back up. "Fine," he protested. "Not hurt. Little damage, not hurt." Leon made an observation right about then. Whenever Alec got flustered, he seemed to have a lot more trouble stringing words together. Going off the last few hours, too, flustered appeared to be his default emotion.

"I might be able to help, but I can't do that if I can't see it," Leon pressed. "I won't hurt you, I swear. You just need to trust me and lie back." Though he could feel his own impatience – not frustration, strangely, just impatience – mounting, he made no move to force Alec to do as he said. Instead, he waited. He let Alec consider his face for a moment, size him up.

Luckily for Leon, that seemed to do the trick. Hesitantly, Alec edged forward a little, eyes darting from Leon to the other soldiers in the room. Before he lay down though, he stopped, eyebrows pulling together. "Just help?" he muttered, his eyes searching and unsure.

"Just help," Leon assured. That did the trick, but only just. Alec pulled his shirt up and over his head, giving Leon, for the first time, a clear view of his upper body. _Holy shit…_ He stared, eyes raking up and down the toned form…or more, up and down the spider web of scars that marred it. The marks varied in size and age, from thin ones like strands of silk to ones like the gruesome tear on his shoulder that wasn't even fully healed.

As Alec started to lie back, Leon guided him back, one hand between his shoulders and the other on his chest. He was careful to avoid any of the more fresh looking marks as he helped him back, and set to work examining the wound on his belly. It was a ragged tear, going from just under his left rib across to the top of his right hip bone. Blood had even started to soak into his pants.

"How did you get this?" Leon asked, pushing the waistband of Alec's pants down a little bit so that he could see the rest of the wound.

Alec frowned, squirming uncomfortably. "Tried saving man…panicked…think I am dead awake…" he said, almost…sadly. "Hur—Damaged...too slow."

It didn't take a genius to figure out the man was now one of the many infected. Honestly, Leon didn't give a damn. Doing that to someone trying to help you was inexcusable. Alec could say it didn't hurt all he wanted to, but Leon knew better. The edges of the wound were an angry red – a different _kind_ of infection – and the sheer size of it.

"It's not your fault," he said nonetheless, and turned to find grab his first aid kit. He took the alcohol out first, unscrewing the cap and holding it over the top edge of the wound. "Alright, Alec, this is gonna hurt, but I need to do it, so just try to bear with me." Just to be safe though, he pressed his free hand against Alec's shoulder to hold him down.

Alec opened his mouth, presumably to protest, but before he could make a noise, Leon tipped the bottle and poured the alcohol down the wound.

This time, his mouth opened for a scream. Leon didn't blame him, but at the same time, it wasn't a good thing, and he quickly covered Alec's mouth, the bottle of alcohol sitting beside him with three fourths of the wound still left to go.

"What the hell?" came a growl from the other side of the room.

"Shut up Brookes! You and Myers, get over here!" Leon commanded, doing his best to hold Alec in place without hurting him. Tears had gathered in his eyes as he thrashed, grabbing at Leon's arms trying to pull him away.

Thank God, neither of them wasted any time, dropping to his knees beside Leon in an instant.

"Myers, grab his legs, Brookes get his arms," he commanded, and they were quick to comply. Alec hadn't stopped screaming, even with Leon's hand cupped over his mouth, but with free hands, he could afford to keep it there while he doused the rest of that wound, and the one on his shoulder, in alcohol.

Luckily for him, they'd come pretty heavily stocked with medical supplies on this one. He hadn't particularly liked the idea himself, but now he was grateful he hadn't made too much of a stink about it.

The gash wasn't very deep, or very wide. It was just long, and angry-looking. Regardless, it took stitches along the top of it, where it was deepest, which Alec was not too happy to sit through. Butterfly bandages held the rest together, just to be safe, before Leon wrapped the wound, from waist to ribs, and across his left shoulder, and got the others to let him go.

Alec immediately tried to sit up, to run, but Leon held him in place even as the others retreated back to their pallets like nothing had happened.

"Take it easy, Alec," he said, holding him in place with one hand and fishing around in the kit in the other. It was still another few hours before they would be mobile, and Leon wanted the kid to get some sleep before they had to get on the move. Since a mix of pain and upset seemed to have worn him sick and jumpy, Leon decided at least one, if not both, needed to be remedied.

He found the pain meds a moment later, popped the lid off, and plucked one out. He wouldn't give such a skinny person two, especially since they needed to be moving in the morning. But one was better than none, and hopefully it would be enough to get him sleeping soundly. "Alright, up you go," he said, gently easing Alec up to sit with his back against Leon's knee. "Take this," he told him, dropping the pill in his hand.

Alec looked at it dubiously, glaring at Leon with unfocused eyes. Another reason to get some medication into Alec? He looked pretty damn close to falling into either shock or hyperventilation. It was really just a race between the two.

"Your wound will heal faster now, and you won't get sick," Leon said, keeping his voice a quiet whisper to not disturb the others.

"Hurt more," Alec protested just as, if not more quietly. His voice shook unsteadily, just like the rest of him.

Leon sighed. It wasn't really surprising, he guessed, that he didn't understand that sometimes pain was necessary to heal. Someone that spoke like that – it would suggest a sheltered life. But he'd nearly outrun Leon with that gash, and God only knew what else, without even uttering a complaint. It didn't speak to a low pain threshold.

No, he just seemed confused. Confused, tired, and scared.

"That will help take the edge off so you can get some sleep," Leon said, gesturing to the pill still clenched in Alec's hand, "And when you wake up, it won't hurt as bad."

Again, Alec stared at him, his green eyes boring into Leon's own eyes as though he could read his intent in them. Maybe he could. Whatever it was, it worked because he popped the pill in his mouth, and accepted the water Leon offered to help him swallow it.

Part of Leon wondered how he knew how to take a pill so well, but was caught off guard by the sting of alcohol, but he brushed it off. Not really something he wanted to think about.

Now, Leon decided to turn in. "Myers, take watch," he commanded, helping Alec to lay down on the pallet. Since the sweater was now trash, leaving Alec bare-chested, he figured the youth would be even more cold than before. That in mind, he settled down beside him, pulling him close to his chest and tugging the blanket over them both.

From the way the slender, injured man curled into his chest, Leon was going to say that there were no hard feelings.


End file.
